


Presents (or not)

by 37h4n0l



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa Zero
Genre: Birthday Presents, Fluff, It's a birthday fic, M/M, as well as a new year's one, can you believe that i sat down and wrote fluff, i just memed out and put kusamochi in it, it's all just very hinted, mmmhmhm don't look at me i just needed matsukamu fluff to be a thing, yeh i can't believe it either
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 17:20:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13276221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/37h4n0l/pseuds/37h4n0l
Summary: New Year's Eve is also Izuru Kamukura's birthday, technically. Not that Matsuda decided to give him a present or anything. At all.





	Presents (or not)

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't the slightest idea how to write fluff.  
> Trivia, in case you're behind with the memes: Hinata likes kusamochi.  
> Here's 1.5k words of sappy shit for the other like 5 miserable fucks who are still into this ship besides me. HNY

Although most people consider the festive period of Winter special, or at least for it to have a particular atmosphere, it’s not the case for everyone. Not understanding the appeal of snow would be a reason for that, for example - Kamukura has been staring at it for the past hour and has yet to reach any conclusion about it other than  _ it being what it is _ , disregarding lexical information about the kind of weather phenomenon snow is and how it’s formed. It’s completely natural for a snowfall to occur during this time of year, and yet humans act excited about it. He, personally, finds it rather boring.

 

The laboratory he sleeps in has decreased in temperature. As long as Kamukura doesn’t perceive it as potentially fatal, he isn’t bothered by it. He still feels cold, but the processing stops there before he could express any kind of preference for environmental factors like it; this is one of the physical improvements made on his body, intense training to produce a kind of slight permanent analgesia; complicated. He doesn’t like thinking about his own creation. Besides being cold, it’s also dark, but Kamukura isn’t motivated to look for pastimes at the moment - he’s content with sitting and watching the snow outside, flakes illuminated by the lamp near his window facing towards Hope’s Peak’s schoolyard. Even if it’s not something entertaining, he’s still fixated on the sight.

 

It’s the last hour of the year. Again, something he can’t fathom being interested in, being that time measurement is an arbitrary human construct. Every minute is just like the others, including the one that marks the end of the year. And yet, Kamukura senses something apocalyptic in the air, something about to end. Maybe it’s induced in him by the lessening population in Hope’s Peak - the one he’s seen from his only window at least - and the general slacking due to festivities even within the research team. The way people act around him is what tips him off about celebrations rather than the calendar - a curious behaviour to observe. Irrational acts made incomprehensible by his apathy and therefore somewhat unpredictable. 

 

The door clicks, cutting his musings short.

 

“You sit in the dark like a houseplant and then have the nerve to complain about being bored?”

 

Kamukura turns around.

 

“Matsuda.”

 

“Yeah, that’s my name. At least one person around me isn’t forgetting shit every five seconds. Marvelous.”

 

“You’re on edge today.”  _ As if that isn’t always the case… _

 

“Guess who had to clean up the staffroom after those stupid shits’ Christmas party.”

 

He watches Matsuda as he deposits a folder of documents on the desk (almost slamming it there), looks around musing on what else needs to be done regarding the Project’s current phase. Kamukura knows he doesn’t get along with the rest of the researchers out of a very obvious mutual disrespect; also that Hope’s Peak doesn’t have a lot of staff to employ for maintenance during winter break since most of them have left to spend holidays with their families. Except the ones with no one to go back to.

 

“It’s freezing in here!” Matsuda groans nervously as he walks up to the radiator - a provisory and rudimentary one only installed to have the test subject here - and rolls the heat up right to the maximum.

 

“Who do you think is gonna get shit for you catching a cold, huh? Are you trying to fuck with me on purpose?”

 

“I would be aware if the temperature decreased enough to be detrimental.”

 

“I figure I’d be a failure at my talent if you were dumb enough to freeze to death.”

 

Kamukura can see an effort in him to calm down. There could be some truth to what he’s saying, though; everyone he’s encountered in this season so far took issue with the cold. Even Matsuda, despite his general lack of care towards things, is wearing a sweater and a scarf over his usual attire, albeit apparently too stubborn to switch from sandals to something warmer. He’s also clutching a plastic bag in one hand, still heaving a little as if he was in a rush before, hair a little more disheveled than usual.

 

“Stop staring” he reprimands.

 

Kamukura diverts his gaze back to the window in obedience, shifting the topic after a bit of silence.

 

“It’s almost new year.”

 

“A few minutes left” Matsuda replies, looking at the clock above the door before stepping closer to the bed he’s sitting on.

 

“And you decided to come here…?”

 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, I just didn’t have anything better to do. Besides, new year’s eve is stupid.”

 

Between two frantic glances at the time, he walks right up to the window to see closely, almost glued to it, and Kamukura gets up to follow, maybe in the hopes of finding something interesting.

 

“I suppose they’re gonna do fireworks at midnight” the Ultimate Neurologist states.

 

“How idiotic.”

 

“How boring.”

 

They react almost simultaneously, like some kind of downbeat comical duo. Still, upon seeing a shadow run through the schoolyard, possibly to set up the petards, Matsuda shoves the other aside a little bit to get a better look. Then, the clock hits midnight and there’s a wave of faint cheers coming from nearby as well as the rumbling sound of fireworks, a few colorful explosions turning up on the sky directly above Hope’s Peak. More than whatever is happening outside, the faint spark of interest in the back of Kamukura’s mind is directed towards why Matsuda’s hand is still on his shoulder. It’s probably one of those things he’d just waste time pondering on.

 

After a few minutes of dead silence and unimpressed observation of the amateur pyrotechnical show, it’s Matsuda speaking first.

 

“Hey, you know-” Kamukura looking up at him with hollow, artificial-red eyes makes him pause, “That Reserve Course ignoramus you used to be, Hajime Hinata-  His birthday was on the first of January.”

 

“So, today…” the other mutters in response. He fails to see how the subject is relevant.

 

Matsuda extracts a plastic box from the bag in his hand and tosses it at Kamukura who catches the object swiftly thanks to his carefully artificially improved reflexes. He opens the packaging - curiously, even. Matsuda is looking away with an indecipherable expression while the box turns out to be full of small, green rice cakes. Kusamochi. There’s something familiar about them but Kamukura wouldn’t be able to explain what.

 

“A birthday gift?”

 

“You wish.” Matsuda attempts a malicious tone, but still fails to look his way. “They’re leftovers from the staff Christmas party.”

 

“According to my knowledge base, people eat these in Spring.”

 

“Well, I don’t know or care” the neurologist grunts.

 

“This box was integer,” Kamukura proceeds with his observations, “it would seem like nobody consumed any.”

 

“Hell if I know?! Maybe they just taste terrible!” 

 

As if to ascertain himself, the test subject takes a kusamochi and bites into it hesitantly. His apathetic expression illuminates ever so slightly; he eats the rest of the sweet quickly.

 

“They are… pleasant.”

 

“You’re not supposed to have a personal taste, you know.” Matsuda combs through his own hair in frustration. 

 

“You’ve brought me an appropriate present” Kamukura says neutrally, lost in thought.

 

“I already told you it’s not a present!”

 

He waits a little, only to slowly grab another rice cake and make it disappear in small bites. Then he looks at the other, managing to establish eye contact.

 

“Matsuda… Thank you.”

 

“Yeah, whatever. I’m trying to make sure you don’t starve.”

 

Kamukura can’t really make sense of that; they’ve been feeding him proper food every day in this stage of the Project. He brushes it off, finding an argument over such a trivial thing pointless. He dredges up some of his knowledge on societal customs of politeness, grabs a kusamochi and hands it to Matsuda silently, the latter jerking back almost in  _ horror _ .

 

“Stop-  trying to act all sweet suddenly!”

 

“I didn’t do anything in particular, just abided by the common cultural norm of sharing food in company.”

 

Matsuda takes the confection with an angry huff and stuffs it into his mouth all at once, then comments with a half-muffled voice while still chewing on it.

 

“God, you’re getting almost as annoying as  _ her _ . I’ll leave now to do something more useful than talking to you.”

 

“Reading comic books…?” Kamukura takes a guess as the other approaches the door.

 

“Ha-ha, funny, I don’t need sarcastic commentary from someone who just  _ sits in one place _ all day.”

 

As the door shuts behind him, Kamukura glares at it for a little while before examining the box of kusamochi in his hands again and sitting down on the bed as usual. The snowfall has become less intense in the meanwhile, and people are still audibly celebrating farther away. Something in him prompts him to keep indulging in the new snack he acquired along with the knowledge of his birthday being technically today. It baffles him that all of that is supposed to matter. Still, the flavour evokes something inexplicable in him, then he figures it probably has to do with the locked up recesses of his mind - or the general bizarreness of the situation that has just occurred. Kamukura doesn’t know what didactic value to give it; but at the very least, he wasn’t entirely foreseeing it.

**Author's Note:**

> Ps I have no idea whether you can get permanent analgesia but can you believe that I'm too lazy to look it up right now?? Also that this still doesn't make me lazier than Kodaka regarding science???


End file.
